


flowers in the concrete

by santiagoswagger



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santiagoswagger/pseuds/santiagoswagger
Summary: A collection of one-shots inspired by prompts on Tumblr, aka the only way I'll survive this hiatus.





	1. i'm alright with a slow burn

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: cold opens
> 
> _Amy Santiago hates being late to anything, but being late to her new job as a detective is the stuff nightmares are made of._
> 
> _Or, the origin story of Amy’s three alarm clocks, inspired by the iconic “Hot Damn!” cold open in 2x09._

Eight days into Amy Santiago’s tenure at the ninety-ninth precinct, the _unthinkable_ occurs.

Her trusty alarm clock, purchased the summer before her first year of college after weeks of research and several trips to Best Buy, dies silently in the middle of the night and fails rouse her from sleep. For nearly a decade, that alarm clock had been with her through thick and thin: harrowing art history exams, unbelievably early mornings at the academy – she’d never even missed a Santiago family brunch thanks to the hardworking accessory on her nightstand.

Now, all she wants to do is hurl the piece of crap to the hardwood floor and stomp on it with her heaviest heeled boots until it’s scattered around her bedroom in dozens of minuscule metal fragments.

It’s 8:59 AM and Amy Santiago is frazzled. Her signature flawless work bun is nowhere in sight, replaced by disheveled waves that fly around her face and cloud her vision as she runs. Her favorite grey pantsuit and royal blue blouse (thoughtfully picked out and thoroughly ironed the night before) are damp with sweat and lined with creases. 

As she crashes through the precinct lobby and repeatedly presses the elevator button for the third floor, her only thought is that her new job binder and its corresponding 30-day plan for success will be rendered meaningless if she’s not in her seat by 9:00. She groans internally when she remembers that her perfect attendance record, untarnished by the horrors of high school and college, will also be sullied in one tragic morning.

After what feels like eons, but what she logically knows is less than thirty seconds, the elevator finally reaches the third floor with a sharp, mocking ding. She races out before the metal doors have even fully opened, unceremoniously dumps her purse at her otherwise perfectly organized desk and throws herself into her chair, its broken wheels creaking with effort, just as the clock hits 9 AM.

The precinct is uncommonly quiet so the loudest sound in the bullpen is Amy’s labored breathing as she tries to soothe her racing heart and anxious brain. It’s at that precise moment that Amy’s worst nightmare strolls into the room, tripping over his untied shoelaces when his eyes find her in all of her disordered glory.

“Holy Moses, Santiago, did you lose a fight in a stationery store this morning?” With his own unkempt hair and perpetually rumpled flannel, he doesn’t exactly look like a well-adjusted adult himself.

She rolls her eyes so hard she thinks they might get stuck before dropping her head down on her desk with an aggravated sigh.

“Save it, Peralta. I haven’t had any caffeine yet and I’m not in the mood. It’s been a _morning_.”

She lifts her head up, with great effort, to look at him. Now that he’s seated at his cluttered desk across from hers, she can see the dark, puffy bruises weighing down his eyes. He’s also clutching a large paper coffee cup from the fancy café down the street like it’s a lifeline. Amy’s only known him for a week but she’s already well aware of his crushing debt; he’s too cheap to spring for expensive hipster coffee, so he must be truly exhausted.

“You don’t look any better. Jesus, did you _sleep_ here?”

He responds with a yawn, long and drawn out. “Sure did! I closed the Masterson case last night, which means I’m still the greatest detective in the world. At least that means I wasn’t late like _some people_.” He gives her a pointed look, walking a fine line between affectionate teasing and light jabbing, which she’s quickly learning is his sweet spot.

“I was _not_ late,” she practically growls, eyes flashing with danger. Jake puts his hands up in mock surrender, though she can tell by the brief glimpse of shock passing over his features that he’s taken aback by her ferocity. She likes that she can surprise people, especially people who think they have her pegged as a goody-two-shoes, like Peralta. “God, I can’t believe my stupid alarm clock died.”

She sits up straight in her squeaking chair as a startling revelation washes over her. “I have to get a new alarm today. Oh my god, I have _so_ much research to do.” Peralta, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he flips through paperwork for the Masterson case, snorts, covering it with a cough at Amy’s sharp glare.

The next morning when Jake saunters in at 9:17, he finds Amy sitting at their desk pod in a neatly-pressed pantsuit, her immaculate ponytail shining like a beacon of light in their grubby precinct. She’s typing furiously on her keyboard, and from the near-empty mug of coffee to her left, he can tell she’s been hard at work for a while now.

“Well, well, well. Someone’s back on their A game. Did you get a new alarm clock last night?”

She sits up straight and her smile is dazzling. “I bought three alarm clocks, actually, and all with battery back-up. I refuse to have another close call like yesterday ever again.”

“Ah, _very_ smort. Looks like all your research paid off.” He means to be sarcastic, but he’s equally charmed and baffled by his new rule-loving, alarm-obsessed partner, so his words become genuine before the sentence is complete.

She beams at him before turning back to her computer. She’s so engrossed in her work that she completely misses Jake’s small smile and lingering gaze.

Unbeknownst to him, his brain files the knowledge of her three alarm clocks away for future use, just like it does later on with her favorite stakeout snack, her dark past as a band geek and the story she tells him of the time she fainted in front of the entire school when she was fifteen.

He doesn’t know it yet, but his brain is cataloguing all the reasons he falls for her.


	2. and wear your silver lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: outfits and disguises
> 
> _Jake gets his first leather jacket on his eighth birthday and it becomes a hallmark of his personality, by his side through thick and thin. However, it's missing for a few key moments in his life._
> 
> _Or, the origin story of Jake's signature leather jacket._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Silver Lining" by Mt. Joy.

He remembers the day _so_ vividly - the way the leather felt wrapped securely around his arms like a firm hug, how it smelled just like Nana’s closet when he hid there to play hide-and-seek with Gina, the way his mom smiled at him like he was the brightest star in the galaxy as he excitedly shrugged the material over his shoulders.

It was his eighth birthday, the first since his dad left their family and Jake’s whole world collapsed and scattered at his feet. It wasn’t destined to be a joyful day, with Roger flying somewhere over Toronto and half the class choosing to go to Joey Garrett’s Mets-themed party instead of Jake’s third annual laser tag bash, but his mom was bound and determined to make it special after their wretched year. Jake wasn’t in the mood to celebrate but he decided to grin and bear the party for her sake; he couldn’t bear to see sorrow dim the light in her eyes anymore.

When it came time to open his presents, Jake smiled authentically for the first time all day, perhaps even all year. His mom brought out the black leather bomber jacket, an exact copy of the one Bruce Willis wore in _Die Hard_ (Jake had seen it no less than ten times since its release last year, and he firmly believed that it was the greatest film in the history of cinema) and he shed a few genuine tears of elation in front of his family and friends. Even at eight, Jake could appreciate the sacrifices his mom must have made to buy such an expensive jacket on her measly art teacher’s salary. It had been a bad year, full of tears and heartbreak and hours spent convincing himself it was all a dream, but the jacket made him feel invincible. It was his own personal suit of armor, even if it was a little oversized on his small frame.

Looking back, Jake can mark that day as the moment something in him shifted for the better. His dad would always come and go, but Jake vowed to always fight for his family. John McClane was a much better role model than Roger Peralta anyway.

The jackets changed in style and grew in size over the years, but the feelings they instilled in him remained evergreen.

He eventually became wholeheartedly convinced that wearing a leather jacket made him braver. He wore one the day he asked Jenny Gildenhorn to be his date to his bar mitzvah, the day he fulfilled his childhood dream and signed up for the police academy, and his very first day as a detective at the Nine-Nine. Placing his badge around his neck and over his popped collar for the first time felt a little like fulfilling his destiny.

However, his signature jacket was missing for some key moments in his life - the first time he met Amy by the precinct elevators, the day he finally, _finally_ kissed her, and when he nervously asked her to spend the rest of her life with him (and she tearfully said yes.)

Maybe the jacket didn’t make him braver, after all. Maybe she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I did the math and _Die Hard_ came out when Jake was 7, coincidentally the year his dad left, so that's where this idea came from. I just love Baby Jake so much!


	3. look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the squad
> 
> _Early in her relationship with Jake, Amy breaks an unspoken rule about PDA in the precinct._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Helpless" by the _Hamilton_ cast.

Amy hated owning up to any imperfection, but even she had to admit that it had been a _massive_ mistake.

She kissed Jake. In middle of the bullpen. In full view of their coworkers. Who had she _become_?

They had been dating for three months and their relationship was far from a secret, but they (mostly Amy) had been _very_ careful about keeping their interactions completely professional while in the workplace. They couldn’t be too careful, _especially_ after the Dozerman incident. If it weren’t for the occasional meaningful look or furtive smile, one would hardly be able to tell Jake and Amy were a couple, and she wore that fact like a badge of honor.

Now, she might as well set that badge on fire and fling it off the roof.

Jake had been sitting in the chair next to her desk as she organized her drawers, crafting fake backstories for all of her knick knacks. She didn’t have many and the few she did were chosen specifically for their practicality, so his stories were pretty outlandish, and very Jake.

“Ah, yes,” he began, holding up her favorite Montblanc pen, gifted to her by her dad when she was promoted to detective. “This fancy, old-timey writing utensil was owned by Arthur Wynne, the inventor of the modern crossword puzzle. He lost it on a train to Pittsburgh in 1923 and it was picked up by Wynne’s puzzling rival, Colin Cotswald, who thought he could take Wynne down by stealing his prized tool. When Cotswald didn’t succeed with his devious plan, he handed the pen off to a man on the street reading a newspaper. That man? Victor Santiago Sr. Victor handed it down to his son, who later handed it down to his only daughter: you. Boom!”

Jake finished his long-winded story and excitedly slammed the pen down on her desk before lifting his arms in the air victoriously. He grinned, his broad smile reaching the farthest corners of his cheeks, and looked so proud of himself it should be illegal.

Maybe it was the pseudo Sherlock Holmes voice he had used, or his cute, mussed hair, or the simple fact that he knew who Arthur Wynne was, but before she could stop herself, Amy leaned over and kissed him softly. Her hand instinctively came up to cup his cheek, and she felt Jake pause before he slowly kissed her back.

It was the feeling of his lips reciprocating her kiss that allowed Amy’s brain to catch up to the reality of her surroundings, and she felt her blood run cold. She pulled back from Jake and saw every single one of their coworkers staring at them in shock: Terry was frozen with a spoonful of yogurt halfway to his open mouth, Rosa looked like she wanted to stab something (or someone), Gina was clearly taking pictures on her phone, and she could swear, even from a distance, that there were _actual_ tears in Charles’ eyes.

Amy’s ears began to burn red-hot. She turned to look at Jake, who looked a little dazed, more than surprised, but far too smug for her taste. She realized her hand was still cupping his cheek and she quickly brought the traitorous appendage back down to her side, sticking both hands under her thighs so they couldn’t be tempted to break any more rules.

The room was unsettlingly silent for a typically chaotic police precinct, but that wasn’t bound to last long in the Nine-Nine.

“Aw, Ames! Your first kiss!” Gina smugly called from over her cell screen. “Don’t worry, girl, I took a bunch of pics so you can always remember how awkward it was.”

“Gina, leave them alone!” Charles had crossed the bullpen to Jake and Amy’s desks, and he wrapped them both in an uncomfortably tight embrace. “Their love is so beautiful; they just want to share it with the world!” Jake and Amy both groaned and shrugged him off.

Terry, meanwhile, had abandoned his yogurt, which Amy considered an _extremely_ bad omen. “Look, Terry loves love. But Terry also loves a PDA-free workplace. Leave that stuff at home, okay?” Amy nodded, her head hung in utter shame.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re dating. Get a room.” Rosa’s harsh words were completely betrayed by her smirk.

“Hey, it’s not my fault Amy finds me so irresistible!” Jake jumped out of his chair indignantly.

“What is all this commotion? Why is no one working?” Captain Holt entered the bullpen, and Amy wondered what it might be like to propel oneself into space. Jake collapsed back into the chair next to her with a resigned sigh.

“Jake and Amy were sucking face at their desks,” Gina helpfully supplied.

Holt’s eyebrows raised imperceptibly before he turned to scrutinize his two best detectives. Amy’s heart was beating so fast she could hear it thumping, and she felt Jake fidgeting nervously next to her.

Holt simply stared at them for a moment before he said, “Everybody, back to work.” He turned and walked back to his office, leaving a stunned squad in his wake.

Slowly, the rest of the office returned to their desks and went back to work, except for Jake and Amy. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I don’t know what came over me.” She was wringing her hands nervously, before Jake grabbed them and squeezed them gently, lightly stroking his thumbs across her knuckles.

“Amy, it’s fine.” He smiled up at her, and she was relieved to hear no teasing in his tone; she wasn’t sure she could handle his banter while her brain processed the mortification she’d just experienced in front of the Captain.

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I mean, I’m thrilled to know that you’re _so_ into me, you’re willing to violate the NYPD Code of Conduct. That’s basically your Bible, babe.”

He laughed loudly at her scandalized expression before getting up from the chair and parking himself at his own desk.

“I hate you,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“No, you don’t,” he smirked.

“No, I don’t.” She smiled in spite of herself.

As she and Jake held hands on their way through the parking garage at the end of their shifts, Amy decided she had learned two very important things that day: that Captain Holt obviously still approved of their relationship, and that she was completely, irrevocably, stupidly in love with Jake Peralta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really want Jake and Amy to make out, okay?
> 
> Also, this was my first time writing most of the squad, so let me know how I did!


	4. it's impossible to ignore you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the break room
> 
> _Jake finds a mysterious object in his bathroom, and he has several questions for his girlfriend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "goodnight n go" by Ariana Grande.

His alarm blares through the room at the ungodly hour of 8:15, and he quickly smashes the snooze button before flopping over to his left side and squishing his head under his pillow for a few more minutes of rest before the blaring starts again. 

At 8:22, he finally hoists himself out of bed and stumbles into his cluttered bathroom. He has approximately eight minutes until he has to leave to get to work on time, according to Amy, so he’ll be leaving in about fifteen. 

He’s half-asleep, but he’s conscious enough to feel how small and quiet his apartment is without her. In the few weeks they’ve been together, they’ve spent almost every night at each other’s places, and every day is a revelation. In truth, he hasn’t been alone in his apartment since they started dating. He’d spent the previous night watching _Die Hard_ while Amy had dinner with her brother, and even though he was past overdue for a marathon of his favorite movie, it felt hollow to watch it by himself with only a six pack of beer for company. 

Jake blinks his bleary eyes open and starts ransacking his messy counter for deodorant. In the midst of his search, his eyes land on an electric toothbrush, neatly tucked into the corner between his old retainer and his nail clippers. 

It takes his brain a few seconds to identify the object, partially because he’s still mostly asleep, partially because his eyesight is _truly_ terrible and he can’t make out half the items in his bathroom as it is. The toothbrush definitely doesn’t belong to him; he’s had the same toothbrush for the last two years and it’s still working _great_. He would never waste what has to be _at_ least five-hundred dollars on something so fancy for his teeth. The only person he knows who takes dental hygiene that seriously is Amy. 

Did his girlfriend leave her toothbrush at his apartment without telling him?

He gives himself a moment to agonize before he remembers how late he is for work. Resigned to hearing another one of Holt’s lectures about how early birds do, indeed, get the worm, he rushes through his pitiful bathroom routine and throws on some relatively clean clothes before heading out. 

When he arrives at the precinct, his girlfriend is mysteriously missing from her desk. However, one quick glance around the bullpen leads him to the break room, where she’s pouring herself a mug of coffee. If she’s on her regular Monday schedule built for maximum efficiency, and he knows she is, it’s her second cup of the day. He throws his bag at his desk and strolls in the room. 

“Morning, Ames.” 

She turns around from the coffee pot and hits him with a dazzling smile. “Hey, good morning! How was your night?”  
“You know, the usual: _Die Hard_ and being awesome.” He moves over to the table closest to her and sits down, watching as she doctors the coffee to her liking. 

“It was weird for me too.” Damn it, she sees _right_ through him. “I – I kind of missed waking up with you this morning.” She sounds hesitant, like she’s afraid any words of attachment or commitment will turn him to stone on the spot. 

“Yeah, I haven’t been late to work in like a _month_.” It’s the only way he knows how to put into words the effect she has on him. 

She smiles in understanding and brings her steaming mug to his table, sitting down in the chair opposite his. These quiet morning moments are usually saved for her light-filled kitchen, but given how much their relationship has ignited and evolved in the precinct, it seems fitting to have this conversation in the break room. 

“Hey,” he begins, feeling himself pause as he carefully measures his words. “Did you happen to leave a very futuristic looking toothbrush in my bathroom?”

He knows her body will tense up before it happens, but he doesn’t anticipate the scarlet blush that blooms across her cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake.” She buries her face in her hands. “It’s just - it was getting really difficult to bring it back and forth between our places, and I feel weird about bringing a toothbrush into the precinct. So, I bought a second toothbrush and left it at your apartment.” She finishes her ramble and burrows her face further into her hands. 

“Amy, it’s fine.” She raises her head from her hands and quirks an eyebrow skeptically. “I’m serious! I wouldn’t want our relationship to get in the way of your aggressive brushing.” She rolls her eyes, but he can tell his approach is working by the sudden spark in her eyes and the grin she’s obviously fighting hard to keep at bay. “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to leave it at my place?” 

She pauses. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid you’d say no.”

Her confession hits him like a freight train, though it’s not without merit. His relationship history is full of cheap first dates and a sad string of one-night stands – not exactly mature, committed boyfriend material. But she’s different, and _he’s_ different now. The toothbrush hasn’t sent him running, and as he looks at her now with her face tinged pink and her ponytail askew, it’s hard to imagine that anything would. 

“Nah, your dental hygiene is _very_ important to me, Ames.” He smiles with his lips closed and cocks his head at her, imploring her to understand that he cares about more than just her dental hygiene. 

She smiles shyly and nods. “You know, you could leave a toothbrush at my place too if you wanted.”

Jake just snorts in response. “Amy, come on. I already have a toothbrush! I don’t need to buy another one for a couple more years.” 

Her gasp is loud and sharp. “Jake, that’s disgusting! I’m not letting you anywhere near my mouth until you buy a new one.” She crosses her arms in finality. 

_“Ames!”_ He tries to protest, but he already knows they’ll be stopping at CVS on their way home later that night. There isn’t much he wouldn’t do for Amy Santiago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this 1000 word summary of Jake's horrifying hygienic issues. 
> 
> Yell in the comments or on tumblr @santiagoswagger!


	5. nothing's gonna change my world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Captain Raymond Holt
> 
>  
> 
> _Faced with change, Amy has a much-needed heart-to-heart with her mentor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Across the Universe" by the Beatles.

A lock of hair fell into her eyes as she crouched on the ground, but she couldn’t bring herself to push it back behind her ears. Her hands were a little preoccupied with a pregnancy test at the moment. 

Amy Santiago had only ever held a pregnancy test on two previous occasions: once when she was in college and forgot to take her birth control pill one morning during finals’ week, and once when her sister-in-law Elena asked her to buy one for her to throw Amy’s brother off the scent. Holding one now that she’s in her early thirties and potentially on the precipice of something life-changing and terrifying, is a different experience altogether. 

As she waited, Amy looked around the boxes of files cluttering the evidence lock-up. Many of them were from cases she’d worked in her time as a detective, and she felt a flush of pride mingle with the anxiety in her gut. She sometimes missed detective work now that she was a sergeant; it seemed like everything around her had been changing lately. It felt like she had met Jake by the precinct elevators just yesterday, both of them sporting equally questionable haircuts. Now there was a very real possibility that they could be parents. 

_Parents_. Oh, god, were they ready? Was six months of marriage enough to prepare them for the care and custody of a tiny, defenseless human? Had they invested in enough stocks to be financially stable for the next eighteen years? Would she and Jake be able to work the crazy long hours they’d grown accustomed to as police officers once they had someone else to come home to every night? What about her dream of becoming the youngest captain in the NYPD? Would she have to put her plans on hold until her kid was out of diapers?

Just as Amy’s spiral was about to transform into a full-fledged tornado, two things happened: the alarm on Amy’s phone chimed, signaling that the result of her pregnancy test was in, and the door to the evidence lock-up opened ominously. In her haste to shut off the persistent alarm, Amy dropped the pregnancy test to the floor, where it landed face-down at the feet of Captain Holt. 

The captain entered the room, paused and looked from Amy’s wild eyes down to the piece of plastic that held her fate. He stared at it and Amy could see his eyebrows raise slightly before he rearranged his face into its typically unreadable state. In her experience with her mentor, she knew this meant he was both surprised and horrified by what he had stumbled upon. 

“Santiago, why are you in here? Should you not be downstairs with the uniformed officers?” 

“They’re all out on assignment, so I thought I would come here for some privacy,” Amy meekly responded. 

“Ah, well, I will leave you to – “

“Actually, sir, would you stay? I think I could use some company after all. But only if you have time, it’s _super_ chill.” Would she ever stop saying the wrong thing around her boss? Six years of embarrassment and counting said no. 

Holt paused for a moment, weighing his options. Amy could only imagine that sitting with a frazzled woman and her pregnancy test on the dirty floor of their precinct wasn’t exactly high on his to-do list for the day. But he sat down, and she was grateful. 

Amy grabbed the test but didn’t turn it over, fear flowing forcefully through her system. They sat in silence for a few moments before the sound of Amy gnawing on her fingernails was loud enough for Holt to speak up. “Is everything alright, Santiago? You do not seem, as you said, _chill_.” His eyes veered to the pregnancy test in her hands and back to meet her eyes. 

“I’m scared.” She hated saying the words out loud, especially to someone she so admired, but they were honest. “What if I really _am_ pregnant and it changes everything?”

“I may not have children of my own, but I do know that everything _will_ change if that is the case.” At Amy’s tortured sigh, Holt quirked his lips upward. “Change is a good thing, Santiago. Your relationship with Peralta has changed considerably over the years, and in my experience, that has been positive.” It’s the most glowing compliment he’s given their relationship to date. 

“Yes, but that took years. This is fast. There was so much I wanted to do in my career before I had kids.” She buried her head in her hands, lost for the first time in a long while. 

Holt placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, and it radiated kindness. “Being a mother and being a captain in the NYPD are both difficult jobs, yes, but I believe you will do both jobs better than most. I would expect nothing less from my star mentee, Amy.” 

Part of her wanted to ask him about who his other mentees were, but she was overwhelmed by the tears clouding her vision. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, Santiago.” He lightly patted her shoulder, perhaps deciding that a handshake wouldn’t be appropriate in this scenario, and grabbed the file he needed before exiting the room. 

In his wake, Amy was left with a sudden sense of calm. Whatever the pregnancy test revealed, she would tackle it like every other challenge she’d faced in her life – with a binder. 

Amy got up from the floor and slipped the pregnancy test into her pants pocket; there was only one person she wanted to see now. She left the evidence lock-up, and ran straight into her husband. 

“Woah, Ames, that really hurt.” He paused thoughtfully. “Do I need to work out more?”

She laughed. “No, babe.” 

He looked at her carefully, taking in her messy hair, red-rimmed eyes and ragged fingernails. “Amy, is everything okay?”

She smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her entire face. “Yeah, I think it will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxious!Amy is my fave Amy. Hopefully my Holt didn't come across too OOC!


	6. when i first saw you, the end was soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Peraltiago
> 
> _After a long six months in Florida under witness protection, Jake was finally coming home._
> 
> _Or, the plane ride back to New York._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "NFWMB" by Hozier.

She felt the sticky Florida humidity blessedly evaporate from her skin as the plane finally, _finally_ took off into the air. After a long six months of separation, Jake was coming home. 

She and Gina had stayed behind an extra day in Florida while Jake and Holt were in the hospital with their injuries, and the rest of the squad traveled back to New York in Terry’s battered minivan. Holt and Gina had scooped up the last two seats on an earlier flight, leaving Amy to deal with Jake on her own. 

Under normal circumstances, Jake was an exhausting traveler. When they flew to the Caribbean for their romantic cruise, he had brought a supply of gummy worms fit for an army, resulting in an epic sugar crash by the time the plane landed. That had been bad, but it was nothing compared to an injured Jake on morphine. 

“Amy,” he sang in a blissed-out slur. “You’re the prettiest lady in the world, in the _universe_ even.” 

It turned out that drugged-up Jake was much more openly affectionate than sober Jake. It almost made up for the hassle of having to fumble with both of their carry-on bags while simultaneously wheeling her uncooperative and easily-distracted boyfriend to their departure gate in a wheelchair. 

“That’s really nice, babe, thanks.” 

He turned in his aisle seat to grin at her dopily with lidded eyes, giddy that he would never have to set foot in swamp-infested Florida ever again. He grabbed her hand and leaned over to kiss her sloppily, one of many kisses he’d initiated since leaving the Fun Zone behind for good. She was sure he was making up for lost time, that they were his way of saying he’d missed home – missed _her_ – more than he could ever say out loud. 

He passed out on her shoulder almost immediately after takeoff, his days on the run and the drugs finally taking their toll on his body. Jake was only ever quiet in sleep, and she took the rare opportunity to study him. He had a tiny new crease on his forehead and the bags under his eyes were puffier and more prominent than she’d ever seen them, but he was still the same Jake, frosted tips be damned. 

She’d _really_ missed him. She hadn’t fully appreciated just how empty her life had been without him for the last six months until now. Seeing him again felt like having an open wound sewn shut.

She rested her head on his and felt sleep take her for the rest of the flight, the excitement of the rescue mission and the late hour finally catching up to her. 

Amy awoke three hours later to the sound of the fasten seatbelt button turning off with a cheerful _ding_. She took in her surroundings and realized the plane had landed. She turned to wake Jake, somehow still fast asleep on her shoulder despite the amount of noise and rustling from the other passengers preparing to leave. 

Amy stroked his hideous bleached hair and softly whispered his name, attempting to wake him delicately due to the bullet wound she had inflicted on him. When he continued to snore, completely unaffected by her ministrations, she resorted to firmly shaking his shoulder until he sat up quickly and whipped his head around in disorientation. 

When he finally realized where he was, he turned to look at her. The haze in his eyes was gone and he was no longer struggling to keep them open, so she assumed the drugs were wearing off. He just looked tired and slightly pained now, but there was a spark in his eyes that had been missing when they were back in Florida. New York City didn’t know what it had coming. 

“Ames?” He said it with such relief, such care, and she wanted her brain to play it on a loop forever.

“Yeah, Jake?” 

“I’m home.” He smiled and she knew, without a doubt, that they would never be out of sync again. 

“Yeah, you’re home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and super fluffy! Hope you liked it!


	7. i'm so lost without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Supporting Characters
> 
> _At his high school reunion, Jake and Amy run into someone unexpected._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "All Out of Love" by Air Supply.

Amy smoothed down her floral skirt and tightened her hair scrunchie before she exited the car. Jake shook his head at her and laughed as he locked it behind them. 

“Ames, it’s _my_ high school reunion. I’m the one who should be nervous, not you.” He grabbed her hand and gently squeezed three times, his signature way of telling her everything would be fine. 

She scoffed at him as they walked through the parking lot to the school’s front doors. “Jake, this is my first time meeting most of your high school friends and I want to make a good impression.”

Jake smiled widely with his lips closed and Amy pinched him on his side in retaliation. “Don’t laugh at me, dork,” she threatened playfully. 

He turned and stopped her before they entered the gym, grabbing both of her hands. “Babe, you look great – _really hot_ , actually – and everyone’s going to love you.” 

She beamed. How did he always know exactly what to say? “Thank you.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to loop her arms around his neck and kiss him chastely (they _were_ in a school, after all.) “Maybe we can find one of your old make-out spots later.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

He laughed outright as his hands skimmed her sides. “Oh, Amy. You and I both know there were no make-out spots. But I _can_ show you the bushes where I first tried to smoke pot before I realized Mike Colossimo had actually sold me oregano. It’s sacred ground.” 

Amy unsuccessfully held in a giggle and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

They untangled themselves from each other and headed through the doors, straight into the 90s. The reunion committee had gone all out to make the shabby high school gym into a legitimately beautiful setting, filled with strings of fairy lights and speakers pumping out Boyz II Men songs. 

The next hour was a whirlwind of introductions for Amy and reunions for Jake while fielding texts from Gina, who was intentionally running late so she could make a memorable entrance and, in her words, “remind these plebeians who their true queen was and always will be.” 

Jake and Amy were having a blast talking and dancing with his old friends, many of whom Jake hadn’t seen in years despite living only a neighborhood over from where he grew up. Amy loved watching him in his element and was thrilled by the number of embarrassing stories his high school friends were willing to tell her. 

After dancing for their fifth straight song, they headed to the bar in search of beers to cool down. As they reached the end of the short line, the woman ahead of them turned around and made eye contact with Jake. 

“Jake Peralta?” 

“Jenny, hi!” 

Of _course_ Jenny Gildenhorn was here. Amy wanted to kick herself for not thinking about the possibility of this run-in before the reunion – she could have prepared herself with a thorough binder or, at the very least, a detailed list of pros and cons. 

Jenny went in for a hug, which Jake awkwardly returned. Once they pulled apart, Amy cleared her throat, startling Jake out of his shell-shocked trance. 

“Oh, Jenny, this is my wife, Amy.” 

Jenny turned to Amy and warmly shook her hand. Amy was immediately, irrationally annoyed by the kindness she exuded. “Hi! You were at Gina’s mom’s wedding a few years ago, right? I remember thinking you guys were so cute together.” 

Now it was Amy’s turn to be stunned into silence. She glanced at Jake and he looked like someone had savagely run him over with a bulldozer. 

“Um, we actually weren’t together back then,” Amy said with a self-conscious laugh. 

To Amy’s surprise, Jenny laughed too. “I’m so sorry! You were together the whole night and the way you looked at each other… I guess I just assumed you were a couple.” 

Jake cleared his throat and smiled at Amy before looking back at Jenny. “It took us a little longer to get there.”

Jenny nodded knowingly. “Well, I’m glad everything worked out for you both.” She glanced at the drinks she was carrying. “I should get back to my husband but it was good to see you, Jake. Nice to meet you, Amy!” 

Before they could discuss the bomb that Jenny had unceremoniously dropped, they reached the front of the line and Jake jumped to order their beers. Amy peeked at her husband as he handed some cash over to the bartender; she could practically see the gears twisting and turning in his brain. 

He handed Amy her bottle and nodded his head toward the gym doors. She nodded and seized his hand as they walked out of the gym and into the high school’s hallway. After a minute or so, Jake stopped and leaned against a row of lockers. Amy followed suit, her shoulder bumping gently against his as they took swigs of their beer. 

“So, how do you feel about seeing Jenny?” Amy broached the subject cautiously. She had to imagine it would be weird for him to see his former crush again, especially since he was still interested in her the last time they saw each other at Darlene and Lynn’s wedding. 

Jake chucked and shrugged. “Well, I finally understand why she hooked up with that guy so quickly.”

Amy snorted. “I can’t believe Jenny thought we were together at that wedding.”

“I can.” 

Amy looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?” 

“Ames, I was _ridiculously_ into you back then. I may have been talking about Jenny that day, but you’re the one I really wanted.” 

He was gazing at her with _that_ look, the same look she remembered him wearing at Darlene and Lynn’s wedding, and she felt like her heart could burst with the amount of love it contained for the man by her side. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed softly. 

“We were really dumb, huh?” 

“The dumbest,” he agreed and kissed the top of her head. 

They stood there in contented silence for a few moments before Amy craned her neck to look Jake in the eye. “Want to go slow dance?”

He grinned. “Absolutely.” 

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer as they walked back to the gym to right a wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I can't wait for this episode. Let me know what you think in the comments! :)


	8. to know him is to love him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: favorite episode
> 
> _The morning after Six Drink Amy makes her debut, Amy's forced to deal with her feelings._
> 
> _Or, a missing moment from 'Beach House.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'To Know Him Is To Love Him' by Amy Winehouse.

Her brain was sludge, maybe even mostly vodka, yet it was somehow still able to jackhammer away at her head in its liquid form. 

Amy slowly blinked her eyes open, immediately shying away from the sunlight streaming viciously through the window and further disturbing her fragile head. As her senses slowly rebooted, her first thought was that she was lying on something soft and bouncy – a bed. _God_ , she didn’t even remember putting herself to bed last night in her drunken state. 

A cautious glance at the nightstand revealed a tube of bubblegum chapstick and a fancy, artisanal glass bottle of water: Gina. If her head weren’t pounding steadily, Amy would be touched by the genuine gesture of friendship. 

She clumsily reached for the water and gulped it straight from the bottle, relishing the cool feel of the water as it ran down her dry, scratchy throat. Feeling somewhat revived, she slowly untangled herself from her bedsheets and stumbled over to her bag for her emergency pharmacy, downing a couple of Advil to relieve her headache. 

Amy heard voices wafting from the kitchen down the stairs, along with the smell of bacon, and she groaned internally. She was so hungry and in desperate need of caffeine, but that only meant that she would have to face her coworkers after embarrassing herself in front of them last night. She’d been drunk in front of the squad plenty of times before, but Six Drink Amy had never made an appearance. She only hoped they would let it slide. 

“Sasquatch!” Gina yelled as soon as Amy stepped foot into the kitchen. So much for letting it slide.

“Morning, Gina.” Amy winced as she tried to smile, her hangover starting to take effect on her face muscles. She covertly handed Gina her forgotten chapstick; to her credit, Gina looked sheepish at being given hard evidence of her friendship with Amy Santiago. 

Jake and Rosa were eating at the dining table and discussing strategy for this year’s upcoming tactical village, Hitchcock and Scully were asleep on each other in the corner (as usual), Terry was doing his Sudoku on the couch while simultaneously lifting a small weight she assumed had come from his fanny pack, and Gina informed Amy that Holt was on a morning beach walk before she left the room to put her makeup on. 

Charles was cooking up what looked to be normal, edible pancakes so Amy made herself a plate and slathered her pile in butter and syrup before sitting down at the dining table. She felt Rosa gently punch her shoulder as she got up from the table. 

“Woah, Santiago, extra butter and syrup? You must be feeling pretty bad if you’re having the Peralta special.”

Amy looked up from the (blessedly) giant mug of coffee Charles had just handed her to see Jake’s smirk. She rolled her eyes and regretted it immediately as the slight movement made her woozy. 

She groaned and dropped her face to her hands. “I feel like someone used my head for batting practice.”

Jake snorted as he inhaled his own pancakes. “Yeah, you were in _rare_ form last night.”

Amy looked up, horrified. If _Jake_ thought she had been a disaster, that didn’t bode well at all. “Oh god, how bad was I?”

He laughed slightly. “Well, you fell asleep on the couch while we were playing Real Ray or Fake Ray and then woke up yelling, ‘Forever alone!’”

Amy stabbed her pancake with venom. “ _Great._ ”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. She looked up to find him staring at her with softer eyes than she’d ever seen on him before. Her stomach swooped, and she tried very hard to tell herself it was hangover-induced nausea and not in any way a response to Jake Peralta. 

“For the record, I don’t think you’ll be alone forever.” He was staring down at his plate now, awkward and earnest, and she honestly thought she might cry. “You’re too good for that, Ames.” 

He looked back at her as he finished speaking, the same puppy dog eyes fixed to his face. Amy stared right back, unable to look away from this rare honest moment with him. 

They had hardly been alone together since their disastrous road trip upstate two weeks previously and Amy had intentionally kept her distance from him since he started dating Sophia. It was all just so complicated and hard, and she hated having feelings (because she can admit now that she has them for him.) And even though various members of the squad were scattered around the room and they certainly weren’t alone, she felt his presence acutely and was comforted by it. 

She nodded and allowed him a small smile. “Thanks, Jake. That means a lot.” He smiled back, and they both continued eating breakfast in contented silence.

That is, until his phone rang and an unfairly beautiful picture of his girlfriend appeared on the screen. 

Jake jumped in his seat and snatched the ringing device from the table, staring at the caller ID. “I should take this.”

Amy swallowed down a snarky comment about significant others not being allowed to interfere with their detectives’ getaway, instead nodding at him. “Sure, I’ll see you later.” 

As he walked out of the room, Amy gulped her coffee, willing the caffeine to bring her forcefully back down to earth, and hating herself just a little bit for the sharp pang in her heart that started as soon as he left the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pining!Amy is underrated. Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.


	9. one glance and the avalanche drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: parallels
> 
> _It starts as a way to rattle her, throw her off of her game. It ends up meaning so much more._
> 
> _Or, the origin of "you look great" - from 'Pilot' to 'Jake and Amy.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Avalanche" by Walk the Moon.

The first time he said the words, they were bursting with sarcasm. 

The elevator doors opened, and Amy entered the bullpen splattered in bird poop. The white substance completely covered the shoulder of her favorite navy blazer and was dotted throughout her hair, now a frizzy mess of a bun slumped down her neck. 

Jake took one look at her and let out a low whistle. “You look great,” he said, smirking. 

Her responding glare was fierce enough to rattle him, even in his smug state. 

“Save it, Peralta. I’m not in the mood.” She collapsed into her creaking desk chair with a pained _humph_. “I spent five hours looking for evidence in that damn aviary and didn’t find a _damn_ thing.” 

Jake leaned back in his own chair and crossed his arms. “Wow, _two_ damns? Someone’s in a bad mood.”

She ignored him, digging furiously through her purse before pulling out a giant bag of toiletries – of _course_ Santiago carried the contents of her entire bathroom around with her. She painstakingly pulled her hair out of its bun and began combing through it with a brush. Jake found his eyes following her every movement; she hardly ever wore her hair down, and it was throwing him off for some reason. 

She saw him staring and stopped. “Peralta, what are you doing?” 

He sat up hastily, mortified that he’d been caught staring at _Santiago_ of all people. 

“Just trying to pick the best pun to text Charles while he’s on his stakeout.” He quickly pulled out his phone and pretended to gaze thoughtfully into the distance. “Should I go with ‘Santiago’s having a really _hawkward_ day’ or ‘The precinct is _fowl_ without you’? 

Her eye roll was the only response he needed. Crisis averted. 

It became a regular thing, another layer to the flirty, antagonistic banter they developed over the years. He would tell her she looked great at the worst possible moments: when they were gearing up to raid a warehouse full of armed drug dealers, when she was beating him in a brutal thumb war, when she was about to meet with the Captain one-on-one in his office and was nervously practicing how to say hello to him in a normal way. She was usually so composed and perfect, and he secretly liked throwing her off of her game. 

She rolled her eyes every time and each one filled him with a weird sense of pride. It felt good to have an effect on her, even a negative one. 

It went on that way for a number of years, until one day the words took on an entirely new meaning. 

A week after tactical village, he could feel their dynamic shifting. They were still way too competitive and bickered non-stop, but now there was an undercurrent of sincerity and mutual respect that hadn’t been there before. They made a great team. 

He had been thinking a lot about what Charles said to him at Shaw’s after the drills. Boosted by that, and by their new dynamic, he walked up to Amy as she was leaving for the day with every intention to ask her out. But when she turned around, he lost all his nerve. He felt like an anvil had mysteriously dropped from the sky and landed directly on his head – Amy Santiago was a creature of habit and she _never_ wore lipstick unless she had a date. 

When he said the words this time, he meant them. 

“You look great.”

For the first time, she didn’t roll her eyes. 

When they started dating, he could finally tell her how great she looked (because she always did) whenever he wanted. It was honestly a relief not to have to hold back anymore. However, he mostly saved those exact words for inopportune moments, half because he loved seeing her signature Santiago eye roll and half because it was a nice reminder that, no matter how much their relationship grew and changed, they were always going to be Jake and Amy. 

He was able to tell her all kinds of things now – you look very nice, you’re beautiful, I love you too – but something about ‘you look great’ just felt right to Jake. 

So, on their wedding day, a day full of change and one that pointed to a future Jake had never thought would be possible for someone like him, he said them again for old times’ sake. 

She was in her comfiest sweats and an NYPD windbreaker with her hair falling haphazardly out of its bun, much like the first time he said those words to her, and she hit him with one of her patented eye rolls. 

Jake smiled to himself. He was going to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in a day and I don't really know what this is, but I hope you liked it!


	10. all we ever do, is all we ever knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'm a Realistic Randy"
> 
> Thanks to the lovely Hannah (@nevermindthewind) for giving me inspiration when I had no idea what to write for a random Rosa quote! 
> 
> _Jake and Amy have been living together for a week, and Amy's struggling to adjust. Enter: Rosa._
> 
> _Takes place shortly after "The Fugitive" in season 4._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "All We Ever Knew" by The Head and the Heart.

Amy carefully finished signing her name on the paper and neatly placed the flawless report in a stack with the others, huffing out a deep breath. She had been so on-edge for the last week, and paperwork was the only thing that made her feel in control. She stretched, hands behind her head, allowing the tension to leave her body in one fluid movement. 

Her boyfriend moved in with her a week ago. 

She loved Jake – _so much_ – but Amy had lived alone since the demise of her relationship with Matt almost a decade earlier, and she was a creature of habit. She had a system, a routine, and Jake had no idea he was disrupting it. 

Before he’d moved in, he spent a lot of time at Amy’s apartment and vice-versa, but never for longer than a night or two at a time. She still had time for herself and her own space to relax so that when she saw Jake, she felt recharged and ready to keep up with his endless energy. Between work and home, they were constantly in each other’s orbit now. She loved waking up to him and his adorably messy bedhead each morning, but she craved alone time too. 

She felt like a monster wishing for some space from him. Six months ago, when he was in witness protection and she didn’t know when she would ever see him again, all she wanted was for Jake to show up at her door and never leave again. Now that they’d finally fulfilled their long-held promise to move in together, she felt more stressed than ever. At least he was out investigating a B&E with Charles while she was having such traitorous thoughts. 

Amy felt her fingers twitch, practically reaching for the hidden pack of cigarettes in the bathroom vent. She’d been so good lately, but she needed an outlet for all this pent-up anxiety. She fought against herself for a minute before launching herself out of her squeaking desk chair and taking off for the restroom. 

She had the vent open and her fingers were centimeters away from the release of sweet, _sweet_ nicotine when the door pushed open and Rosa entered the bathroom. Amy felt herself wilt under the sharp glare of her most terrifying friend. 

“Santiago, I thought we talked about this,” Rosa crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow. “Mary Anne is better than that.”

“Mary Anne is having a hard week, Rosa.” Amy moved from her crouched position to sit next to the open vent, leaning up against the wall. It was a testament to how frazzled and guilty she felt that she didn’t even think about the number of germs she was sure to be picking up. The precinct’s janitor was _not_ thorough. 

Rosa stared down at her before sighing and moving to sit beside her. 

“Dude, what is going on with you?” 

Amy looked at her friend, hesitating. She didn’t want Rosa to think any less of her. She had spent most of Jake’s exile to Florida complaining to Rosa about wanting him back, and now here she was complaining about too much time with him. 

“Amy, you can tell me.” It was the use of her first name that finally let the words flow out of her, like the release of a dam. Rosa hated calling people by their first names, it was too personal. 

“I love Jake, you know that,” she started. 

Rosa smirked but said nothing. 

“It’s just – he’s always there, at work and at home now. And there’s a _Die Hard_ poster on my living room wall and crumbs in my couch cushions and I haven’t had any time to myself and I think I’m going insane.” 

It all came out in one quick breath. Amy chanced a glance at Rosa, who was looking as stoic as ever. “I sound like the worst girlfriend in the world,” she groaned.

She leaned her head against the grimy tile wall to punctuate her angst and stared up at the ceiling. 

“No, you don’t. You sound like a normal human woman.” 

Amy rolled her head over to look at Rosa. “Really?” she asked skeptically. 

“Really, dude.” Rosa looked over at her. “I’m a Realistic Randy. If Adrian moved in with me, I think I’d lose it at first too. Change sucks.” Amy nodded slowly in silent agreement. “You know what you have to do, right?” 

“Run away and never come back?” Amy said hopefully. 

One look from Rosa and Amy broke. “I know, I know, I need to talk to Jake and tell him how I’m feeling.” 

Rosa leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed again, satisfied. “You guys are the most sickening couple I know. You’ll be fine.” 

Amy smiled and ducked her head before remembering something. “Realistic Randy? Is that a thing people say?” 

“It’s a thing _I_ say. Get over it.” Amy laughed and leaned her head against the wall once more, feeling a wave of peace wash over her. 

The next morning, when Jake and Amy walked off the elevator holding hands in a rare display of precinct PDA, Amy swore she saw Rosa smile before hiding her mouth behind her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, I would die for the Sleuth Sisters. Let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> Also, Amy's ex Matt is a nod to one of my first fics, [ worth the wait.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749061/) Feel free to check it out!


	11. you're part of the past, but now you're the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Favorite quote
> 
> _Amy surprises Jake one night with a bottle of Orangina, and he's not a fan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Love" by Lana Del Rey.

_“I’ve made all kinds of changes. I bought orange soda for you!”_

_“For the last time, Orangina is not orange soda!”_

Jake jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time, thankful he was only ten minutes late to meet his girlfriend at her place for a date night in; Amy Santiago was nothing if not punctual. He knocked three times on her door, his signature police knock, and the door opened approximately two seconds later, as if Amy had been waiting in her entryway for him to arrive. 

She was beaming, which was definitely not the annoyed scowl Jake was _sure_ he would be greeted with due to his tardiness. 

“Hey, Ames,” he said skeptically, eyes scanning her face for any signs of concealed rage. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up finishing some paperwork and then Charles insisted on showing me some new pictures he took of Genevieve.” He shuddered. 

“That’s totally fine,” she answered cheerfully before pulling him inside and kissing him hello. They were so used to being PDA-free at work, it felt so good to actually be close to each other at home. They were both surprisingly tactile people. 

He put his bag down on the couch and started taking off his jacket to settle in for the night while Amy went to the kitchen to unload the Chinese takeout she’d picked up on her way home from work. Jake stared after her, wondering what had gotten into his girlfriend. 

He followed her into the kitchen and started to gather napkins and utensils to take to the dining table. He’d been to her apartment for dinner so often at this point in their relationship that they moved like a well-oiled machine together. She smiled gratefully as she pulled two plates out of her cabinet. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he began cautiously. “But who are you and what have you done with Amy Santiago?”

She snorted. “ _Ha ha_ , Jake. I don’t know, I’m just in a good mood, I guess.” She shrugged and smiled up at him. 

He grinned back, his heart full of something he wasn’t quite ready to confront yet. He only knew it was something he could get used to. 

“Also, I have a surprise for you,” Amy said excitedly, clapping her hands together and bouncing slightly on her toes. 

“ _There_ it is,” Jake said, laughing. “What did you get me?”

She practically sprinted over to the refrigerator, and Jake felt himself deflate. Whatever surprise was waiting for him in her fridge, he _definitely_ didn’t want it. Amy’s fridge was usually chockfull of expired, rotten vegetables and days-old takeout – not exactly what he would call prime gifting material. 

She opened it up and pulled out a curved bottle filled with a light orange liquid. 

“I bought you some orange soda!” She handed him the bottle and looked so proud of herself, Jake couldn’t help but smile back. 

“I remember you saying last week when you were here that you wished you had some orange _drank_ to chase down your gummy worms, so I saw this at the grocery store and it made me think of you.” 

He looked down on the bottle, one he’d never seen before. 

“Orangina?” he questioned. 

“Yes, it’s the best! We had it all the time in my house growing up. It’s orange-flavored, your favorite.” 

“Thanks, Ames,” he said genuinely. “That was really nice of you.” He meant it. In his limited relationship experience, no girlfriend had ever surprised him with a present for no reason. 

He went to stick the bottle back in the fridge. 

“Don’t you want to try it?” 

He paused. He would be the first to say he wasn’t a fan of trying new things, and orange-flavored anything just sounded like it wouldn’t mix well with his mushu pork. But Amy’s eyes were gazing intensely into his and she looked so vulnerable, he _couldn’t_ say no, as much as he may have wanted to. 

“Uh, yes. Yes, of _course_ I do.” 

Jake began unscrewing the top, ignoring Amy’s wince as he drank straight from the bottle. He took a big swig and immediately regretted it. 

His mouth was filled with what essentially amounted to carbonated orange juice, and he hated every bit of it. There wasn’t nearly enough high-fructose corn syrup in the drink to make it bearable and the acidity of the real citrus was too much for his delicate taste buds to handle. It was, in a word, gross. 

He mustered up the courage to swallow. “Wow, that was… _so_ good.” He grinned and hoped it didn’t look too pained. 

Amy, however, was not convinced. “You hated it,” she said flatly. 

“I didn’t hate it,” Jake backtracked, cursing his own beautiful, expressive face. “It’s just not what I was expecting.” 

Amy sighed, dejected. “I shouldn’t have bought it.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Jake implored, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tight. “I appreciate the thought. That was, like, the _coolest_ girlfriend move.”

Amy looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he said grinning. “I know how terrified you are of cavities, so buying any kind of carbonated drink was a big step for you.”

Amy rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

“It’s just not, you know, orange soda,” Jake said kindly, stroking her hand with his thumb in reassurance. 

“I mean, they’re basically the same thing,” Amy countered. “And at least Orangina has real fruit juice.” 

“Well,” Jake dragged out the word, searching for a way to head off the argument before it began. “Dinner?”

Amy laughed and nodded. “Dinner.” 

It wouldn’t be the last time they fought about Orangina, but two weeks later, there was a six-pack of _real_ orange soda in Amy’s fridge and Jake was much closer to identifying the feelings intensifying in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite quote is actually the Aladdin vs. Othello one about Iago in "Operation: Broken Feather" but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write it. Domestic Peraltiago is the purest thing we have on Earth. Let me know what you think in the comments!


	12. for you are not beside but within me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy is pregnant, but she has a hard time believing it's really happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'Loving Someone' by The 1975.

She stared at the pregnancy tests lined up on her counter in complete disbelief. For most, five positive tests would be a pretty clear indication of a pregnancy, but Amy Santiago wasn’t convinced. 

For one, she and Jake hadn’t even started trying yet. They had only celebrated their first year of marriage the month before. While on an anniversary getaway in the Poconos, they decided to do away with one form of birth control with plans to start trying for a baby in a few months, in keeping with her trusty life calendar. She had been meticulous about her birth control regimen since she started taking the pill at the age of 18 and insisted on multiple forms of protection in order to avoid a pregnancy before she was ready. 

Like now. 

The only obvious symptom she’d experienced thus far was a missed period, which was what had prompted her to buy a pregnancy test in the first place. Other than that, she hadn’t felt the slightest bit nauseous and she hadn’t been any more tired than an active police sergeant should be. It was hard to believe her body was undergoing such a drastic transformation when she felt so normal. 

Still, _five_ pregnancy tests couldn’t be wrong, could they? 

A soft knock on the bathroom door reminded Amy that her husband was anxiously waiting for an answer outside. She took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Jake looked relaxed on the exterior, perhaps for her benefit, but she could tell by his fidgeting hands that he was bursting with nerves. 

“What’s the verdict?” he asked hopefully, clasping his fingers together to stop them from twitching. 

Amy silently gestured to the row of tiny pink plus signs in response. 

Jake looked at them for a few moments, his seemingly composed expression slowly morphing into the widest grin she’d ever seen, his eyes crinkling with unadulterated joy. 

“Ames, you’re pregnant!” he exclaimed gleefully, moving to hug her tightly and lifting her up, somehow managing to swing her around in their cramped bathroom. 

He put her down gently and moved to kiss her, stopping halfway when he realized his wife wasn’t joining in the celebrations. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, gently rubbing her shoulders. “This is good, right?” She hated the doubt she could hear in his inflection. 

She paused. “It’s good,” she began hesitantly. “I’m just not sure it’s true?” 

Jake stared at her, brow furrowed. He moved to look at the pregnancy tests over his shoulder before looking back at her, more confused than ever. 

“Amy, I’m pretty sure those five tests mean you’re pregnant,” he said gently, as if he were trying to convince a particularly stubborn kindergartener to share her crayons. 

“I don’t _feel_ pregnant, though,” she insisted. “Plus, we hadn’t even started trying. There’s no way it should have been that easy.” 

Jake laughed outright at that. “Did you forget that you come from a family with eight kids? The Santiagos are a very fertile people.” 

Amy rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Jake.” 

He sighed and kissed her forehead. “How about you make a doctor’s appointment and we’ll settle this once and for all?”

Amy’s doctor couldn’t see her for another two weeks, so she went about her life as normally as possible, despite the anxiety slowly eating away at her gut. She still went to Shaw’s with the squad after work most nights and successfully managed to pass her orders of club soda with lime off as gin and tonics, though Rosa did narrow her eyes when she turned down a shot of tequila one night as they celebrated the solve of a particularly difficult robbery. 

She couldn’t even bring herself to grab her secret cigarette pack and smoke away the anxiety for fear of doing damage to her _probably_ non-existent child, as much as she may have wanted to. 

Jake unceremoniously threw away all of their deli meat and soft cheeses the night she took the pregnancy tests, despite Amy’s protests that it was a colossal waste of money. In the throes of excitement, he even bought a “Welcome to the Party, Pal” onesie online, along with a matching t-shirt for himself, and it made Amy smile despite her niggling doubt. 

The night before her doctor’s appointment, she and Jake were watching _The Great British Baking Show_ on their couch, his arm slung loosely around her waist pulling her into his side. 

She lifted her head up from his shoulder and asked the question that had been weighing on her mind for the past two weeks. “What if I really _am_ pregnant?” 

He looked down at her, a smirk beginning to take shape on his lips before he took in her worried expression. His face softened immediately. 

“Then we’ll be ready for it. You and I can do anything, Ames,” he said earnestly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Amy thought she couldn’t love him more than she did in that moment. 

When her doctor confirmed her pregnancy via blood test the next morning, however, she still wasn’t convinced. 

“I’m just not sure there’s anything in there,” she insisted, gesturing vaguely to her stomach. 

Dr. Lieberman paused and looked at Jake, who was smiling and shaking his head bemusedly in the plastic seat next to her, as if to ask if his wife was of sane mind. 

“Ms. Santiago, I promise you, you’re pregnant. Blood tests are 99 percent accurate,” Dr. Lieberman said kindly. “Every pregnancy is different. You might just be one of the lucky few that doesn’t have morning sickness.” 

When it became clear that Amy wasn’t going to be persuaded by words alone, the doctor made a decision. “You normally wouldn’t have your first ultrasound until you’re 18 weeks along, but I can go get the technician now if it would put your mind at ease.” 

It wasn’t until Amy found herself in front of a dark monitor with cold gel covering her still-flat stomach that it all became real. The ultrasound tech pointed to a tiny speck on the monitor, a small form the size of one of Jake’s gummy bears, and the dam instantly broke. 

“I’m really pregnant?” she asked, tears beginning to form as she looked from the screen to her husband. 

“Told you so,” Jake said, grinning. He squeezed her hand tightly and leaned down to kiss her temple. 

The life calendar was going to need some alterations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: this is a real story from my friend, who just told me she's pregnant! She's actually Amy Santiago.


	13. you and me, there's air in between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early in their relationship, Jake learns he's Amy's emergency contact. 
> 
> _Set somewhere after 'The Mattress' but before 'Yippee Kayak.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'Alaska' by Maggie Rogers.

He got the call while he was on his lunch break.

He was on his way back from his favorite deli around the corner and silently rejoicing in the fact that the cashier forgot to charge him for the extra bacon he requested on his sandwich when the phone rang. 

He didn’t recognize the number but he had recently entered a radio contest for Carly Rae Jepsen tickets, so he answered straightway. 

“Hello?” 

A bored voice greeted him on the other end. “Is this Jake Peralta?”

“Yes, is this Z100?” he asked enthusiastically. 

“No, sir, this is Brooklyn Methodist Hospital.” He immediately regretted his earlier exuberance. He could feel his blood freeze to ice as he questioned why a hospital would be contacting him in the middle of the day. Could something have happened to his mom? 

He cleared his throat to stem his unease. “Is everything okay?” 

“We have you listed as the emergency contact for Amy Santiago. She was involved in an accident earlier this morning and we need you to come down to the hospital.”

He barely heard anything after the word ‘accident’ for fear that something _horrible_ had happened to his girlfriend, but he managed to remain cognizant enough to remember which building Amy was in before he hastily hung up the phone. 

He quickly jumped into cop mode; he needed to treat this like a case or he was going to lose it. He flagged down a cab – crushing debt be damned – and made his way to the hospital. It wasn’t until he was seated on the stiff leather cushions that it occurred to him that he had no idea he was Amy’s emergency contact until today. 

He was pretty sure it had been her brother Tony, but he recently took a job in Chicago, so it didn’t surprise Jake that she would have had to pick a new emergency contact. 

Why hadn’t she said anything to him about it? 

Amy Santiago was all about open communication – she even had a binder on the subject stashed away on her bookshelf from a seminar she took last year. It baffled Jake that she would make such an important decision without at least informing him first.

Before he could go too far down the rabbit hole, his cab arrived at the front doors of the hospital and he jumped out of the car before it was fully stalled, forgetting his sandwich in the process. He rushed through the lobby and made his way to the receptionist’s desk, trying to be as commanding as possible so he could find out what was going on _or he was going to lose it._

“Amy Santiago’s room, please.” The last word came out as a squeak, his emotions betraying his authoritative exterior. 

The receptionist looked him up and down with a judgmental eye, appraising him. “You must be the emergency contact,” she said in the same uninterested voice from their earlier phone conversation. “She’s in room 347.”

Jake raced away from the desk towards the elevator without another word and tried not to worry about what he might encounter when he reached Amy’s room. 

He’d only been told that there was an accident, but that could mean _anything_. Maybe she was comatose, or completely unrecognizable from a car crash. Maybe she had amnesia and wouldn’t remember him or the last decade of her life. 

The elevator announced his arrival on the third floor and Jake’s stomach plummeted to the ground. 

He quickly found Amy’s room and opened the door to find her sitting perfectly upright on her hospital bed, the only sign of injury a thick bandage wrapped around her ankle. 

She was picking at her cuticles, a nervous tick of hers he’d observed over the years, but she looked up when she heard the door open and her gaze brightened when she saw him. 

“Jake,” she breathed. 

“Ames,” he answered, relief trickling out of him, his arms engulfing her as he sat down on the bed, careful not to jostle the ankle she had elevated on a pile of blankets. “Are you okay? What happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone.”

She pulled back from his embrace and he took her in: her ponytail was messier than he’d ever seen it, her favorite navy blazer was torn in the shoulder and her usually subtle eyeliner was smudged beyond belief. 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Dumb perp pushed me while I was trying to cuff him and I rolled my ankle. Terry made me come here to get it checked out, but it’s _fine_.”

“That perp’s an idiot,” Jake scoffed back, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly anyway. She squeezed back. “Did you get him?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded and smiled. 

“Of course you did, you’re a badass.” He kissed the top of her head. “Did the doctor say when you can leave?”

She sat back on her mountain of pillows and sighed. “They’re finishing up the paperwork now, so I should be discharged within the hour.” She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly avoiding his gaze and focusing instead on a pulled thread in her blanket. “So, you’re here. At the hospital. With me.” 

Jake grinned at her obvious discomfort. “I sure am.” 

She finally looked at him, eyes guarded. “How do you feel about that?”

He paused before answering softly, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He continued quickly, not letting his emotion linger, not yet. “I mean, free jello _and_ pudding? That has Jake Peralta written all over it.” 

She laughed, and he knew that she got it, got him. 

“I just can’t believe you chose _me_ as your emergency contact. You have, like, five brothers in the tri-state area and I accidentally left my stove on for an entire day last week,” he said. 

She shrugged and tried to cover the blush creeping up her neck. “I know I can count on you.”

He was instantly struck by the fact that Amy hated relying on anyone almost as much as she hated a misused semicolon, but she chose him to rely on in her time of need. An unfamiliar warmth began to seep through his body. 

He grinned stupidly at her. “Pretty sure you’re stuck with me.” She beamed back at him. “Now hand over your jello, m’lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some unadulterated fluff for y'all! Let me know what you think in the comments!


	14. i'll follow you into the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: heya!! for a prompt, how about jake getting sick and amy taking a (GASP) day off work to take care of him!! post marriage if possible <3
> 
> _Jake's feeling a little worse for wear after a night out with friends and Amy makes a huge sacrifice for her husband._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie.

Their Saturday morning started with the sound of last night’s whiskey heaving its way out of his system. 

Amy crawled out from her cocoon of blankets and sleepily hobbled over to the bathroom, only to find her brand-new husband curled in the fetal position on the rug in front of their shower. 

“Jake, are you alright?” she asked cautiously. He looked like death warmed over, all pale skin and bloodshot eyes. The bright sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. 

The only response she got from him was a slow, pained groan. 

“Okay, time to go back to bed.” She got down on the floor to rub small, soothing circles on his back in an attempt to coax him back to bed. He sighed at the warmth of her contact and she knew her attempts were working. 

“ _Why_ did you let me drink so much?” He complained, voice hoarse and gruff, slowly disentangling his limbs and grabbing the counter to lift himself from the floor. 

Amy snorted. “I wasn’t even there, idiot,” she countered, ruffling his hair fondly. 

It was their first weekend home after their honeymoon and Jake’s old buddies from the academy had decided to take him out for celebratory drinks to congratulate him for not, in his friend Robert’s words, “dying alone.” They hadn’t been able to make Jake and Amy’s last-minute precinct ceremony and they had insisted on doing something small to celebrate him and this new chapter of his life. 

Apparently, a few celebratory drinks had turned into a massive drinking contest, which Rosa had informed an exhausted and exasperated Amy that Jake won when she dropped him off at their apartment around two in the morning. Amy had silently cursed her husband for being so competitive as he drunkenly stumbled through their dark living room on his way to bed, attempting to remove his sneakers as he went. 

Now, he flung an unsteady arm around her waist, both out of affection and out of the need to stay upright. He curled up under the covers, which Amy tucked tightly around his body before sitting next to him, her hand moving to delicately rub his shoulder. 

“Did you at least have fun last night?” 

He cautiously opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light filtering in through the window. 

“It was great to see everyone. I miss those guys, but I _definitely_ don’t need to see them for a long time now if this is how a night out with them is going to end,” he said quietly, almost as if he was afraid of the volume of his own voice. 

“Yeah, you’re probably getting too old for drinking contests,” she said, trying and failing to hold in her laughter. 

“Rude,” he narrowed his eyes at her, brow furrowing indignantly. She leaned down to kiss it before going to the kitchen to pour him a giant glass of water and to retrieve two aspirin for the headache he was sure to have later. 

She settled the water and pills down on his nightstand, right next to the empty candy bar wrappers he hadn’t had time to hide from her yet. The noise startled him into opening his eyes again and he spotted her handiwork. 

“Best wife ever,” he said contentedly before he settled further into his pillows and closed his eyes to rest once again. 

_Wife._ The word knocked the wind from her lungs. They had been married for over two weeks now, and she still couldn’t quite believe that this was her reality. She looked at him, buried under blankets and her feminine floral quilt, looking somehow younger than ever, and she felt her heart expand and warm at the sight. She went out into the living room and dialed the familiar number on her phone without a second thought. 

A few minutes later, she slid under the covers next to him. He rolled over, with great effort, and looked at her questioningly. “Don’t you have to go to work today?” 

“Nope, I just called out sick,” she responded matter-of-factly, fluffing her pillows into the shape she liked. 

He sat up immediately, clutching his forehead and moaning regretfully in the process. “You _never_ take sick days.” She could hear how concerned he was. “You were so excited to see your new filing system in action today. Are you feeling okay, Ames?” 

She rolled over to look up at him from behind her lashes. “I feel fine, but I decided I wanted to stay home and take care of you.” 

He smiled softly, caught off-guard. “Wait, you took a sick day for _me_? Amy, you didn’t even take a sick day that one week you had walking pneumonia.”

She reached out and cupped his face, thumb stroking his cheek. He gently leaned into it. “I know, but it’s our first weekend home as a married couple and you looked so cute and sad and vulnerable. I couldn’t leave.” He snorted. “In sickness and in health, right?” 

He beamed and nodded before leaning over to kiss her. She stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. 

“Jake, you _just_ threw up and have yet to brush your teeth. Plus, you _reek_ of alcohol. There’s no way you’re kissing me,” she said sternly. 

He flopped back onto his pillows, sleep taking over. “Just wait ‘till later, babe. I’m gonna rock your world.” 

She chuckled lightly, shuffling over to curl around him. “I’m counting on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Feel free to yell with me in the comments or on tumblr!


	15. this feeling follows me wherever i go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's three in the morning and a jetlagged Amy can't sleep. 
> 
> _Takes place immediately after 'The Cruise.'_
> 
> Based on the softest prompt from @fourdrinkamy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'You Make Loving Fun' by Fleetwood Mac.

It’s the godforsaken hour of three in the morning and Amy can’t asleep. 

She and Jake had only touched down in Brooklyn two hours earlier, Jake having booked them on a cheap late-night flight home from the cruise, and exhaustion had totally overtaken them both. They fell into her bed with a drowsy kiss and barely a few words exchanged almost immediately after walking through the front door, but sleep had yet to come for Amy. 

All she can think about now is that they have to be at work in less than six hours and her brain refuses to shut itself off. 

She quietly rolls over to look at Jake. He’s buried under her floral quilt and curled up on his side, facing away from her. She narrows her eyes as she observes him – something’s off. 

Fact the first: Jake almost _always_ sleeps facing her or on his back unless he’s specifically requested to be the little spoon (which happens more frequently than he’ll ever admit) but he hadn’t that night. 

Fact the second: His breathing isn’t even enough for someone supposedly in the midst of a REM cycle. He’s being far too quiet, trying way too hard to appear normal. 

She cautiously pokes him in the shoulder. “Jake,” she whispers. He doesn’t respond, but she can see his spine stiffen at the sound of her voice. 

She pokes him harder. “Jake, I know you’re awake,” she says impatiently, deciding they’re beyond whispering at this point. 

“Ugh,” he groans. “You can’t sleep either?”

“Nope,” she says miserably. 

He rolls over to face her and her stomach swoops pleasantly. His curls are mussed from tossing and turning and his eyes are puffy with fatigue, but somehow still twinkling in classic Peralta fashion. He looks unfairly adorable, and she can hear rather than feel her heart begin to thump wildly in her chest. 

They just spent an entire week together in close quarters on a cruise ship – _why_ isn’t she sick of him yet? 

“Ames, stop staring at me.” Jake breaks through her thoughts with a lopsided grin that is far too smug for Amy’s taste. “You’re lucky I love you, you weirdo.”

He _loves_ her. There’s no way she could ever be sick of him now. 

“Yeah, I am,” she says reverently, reaching out to run her hand through his messy hair. He closes his eyes at her touch in complete contentment. 

For someone who claims to be uncomfortable with emotions, she can see the heart he wears on his sleeve pretty well. The words “I love you” roll so easily off his tongue now, despite how new they are. It’s like he’s been saying them to her for years. 

They’re still for a few quiet minutes, eyes closed and wrapped up together, until Jake’s stomach rumbles and ruins the moment. 

“Why am I so hungry?” He rubs his stomach soothingly. 

“That would be the jetlag, babe,“ Amy says, laughing affectionately as she folds her sheets back and moves to get out of bed, stepping into her waiting fuzzy slippers. “Let’s go find some food. It’s not like we’re sleeping anytime soon.” 

Jake crawls out of bed, with significant effort and several exaggerated complaints, and dutifully follows her into the kitchen. It turns out that nearly everything she has is either expired or inedible, save for a single box of brownie mix she only purchased last month because she had a coupon (and because she knows her boyfriend’s sweet tooth very well.) 

Jake lets out an excited holler, far too loud for the early hour, when he spots it in her pantry. “Brownies! Let’s make them!” 

Amy blinks at him. “Jake, it’s _so _late. We can’t bake brownies right now.”__

__“You’re right, _you_ can’t,” he says pointedly, his ever-twinkling eyes issuing an unspoken challenge. _ _

__She gasps indignantly. “We’ve been through this! I’m a _great_ cook, I just need a decent recipe to follow.” His expression remains skeptical._ _

__“It’s _on_ , Peralta,” she growls. She grabs the brownie mix from him and starts searching for a baking pan. _ _

__Jake pre-heats the oven for her, the only bit of help she allows from him, while she rummages through her cabinets. She mixes the ingredients together in a bowl with all the precision she can muster, frantically re-reading the directions on the box every few minutes or so to make sure she isn’t making any fatal mistakes. Jake watches his girlfriend effectively lose her mind from the countertop next to the stove, occasionally pointing out loose eggshells in the batter or stopping her from stirring the mixture too quickly. She frowns and protests, but she takes his advice every time he offers it._ _

__Twenty minutes later, the dish is safely in the oven and Amy turns to smirk at her boyfriend, crossing her arms proudly. “Told you I could do it,” she says, arching a single eyebrow in defiance._ _

__Jake chuckles. “We haven’t eaten them yet, Ames. I would hold off on your victory dance for now.”_ _

__She huffs furiously, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face in the process._ _

__Jake grins and beckons her over to him. Amy softens and crosses the kitchen, only to find her nose smeared with brownie batter when she gets close enough to his outstretched arms._ _

__“You jerk!” she cries, immediately grabbing a wad of paper towels to remove the offending substance._ _

__Jake’s doubled over with laughter on his countertop perch; his laughter only grows when Amy shoots him a venomous glare. He hops down and meets her in the middle of the kitchen, trying and failing to stifle his amusement._ _

__He gathers her in his arms and presses a light kiss to her nose. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”_ _

__She sighs softly, exasperatedly. “You’re lucky I love you, you weirdo,” she says, echoing his earlier words._ _

__His grin widens and it’s bright enough to blind her. “Yeah, I am.”_ _

__It’s the godforsaken hour of four in the morning, and Jake and Amy are in love._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, Jake and Amy fall asleep on the couch and the brownies burn. Sorry, Ames.


	16. i'm looking at you and my heart loves the view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy's first month at the nine-nine hadn't gone according to plan, and having Jake as a partner didn't help.
> 
> _Prompt from @startofamoment: song lyric / title prompt just bc: "i'm looking at you and my heart loves the view"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Right Here, Right Now" from High School Musical 3 (You can thank Erica for this :))

Amy couldn’t pinpoint the precise moment she fell for Jake, but she knew exactly when she began to see him as more than just the childish detective she got stuck sitting across from. 

Her first month at the nine-nine had been almost unbearable. Rosa, the only other female detective on the squad, refused to make eye contact with her and communicated mostly in grunts. Charles was nice enough but got _way_ too personal _way_ too fast when he asked her a question about Kegel exercises on her third day; she’d been wary of him ever since. Hitchcock and Scully were too horrifying to put into words. 

And then there was Jake. 

He hadn’t made the greatest first impression with his ratty hoodie (in the _workplace_ ) and an unkempt desk so disorganized it made her sweat behind the knees. On her first day, he made fun of her colorful binder tabs and successfully got the entire precinct to call her Lame-y Santiago. He reminded her too much of Jason Reynolds, her elementary school bully, and she decided then and there that they would never be anything resembling friends. 

It was a Thursday evening and she’d had the _worst_ day. The drug case she had been working for nearly two weeks was snatched up by a repulsive detective from Major Crimes that everyone called The Vulture (he kept whistling at her and calling her foxy), Scully had accidentally eaten her lunch (amazing leftovers from a visit to her parents’ house that weekend) and she’d spilled coffee all over her favorite tweed blazer (it would take her at _least_ an hour to scrub the stain out.) 

When she got back to her desk after spending most of the afternoon dealing with The Vulture, her mood only worsened. Jake’s files were _everywhere_ and his mountain of half-finished paperwork had begun to encroach on her spotless area, mingling with her own organized paperwork. There was a pile of crumbs left over from Monday’s bagel that he hadn’t bothered to clean up and she could have sworn she saw a mouse scurrying around the other day. He didn’t seem to care about the mess at all as he sat at his desk building a paper airplane out of what looked like an important document. Amy could see the outline of a notary stamp on one of its paper wings. 

That was the last straw. 

“ _Peralta!_ ” she growled. The bustling precinct came to a stop. No one had heard the overly-polite Detective Santiago raise her voice in the month she’d been at the nine-nine, and the surprise in the air was palpable. 

Jake looked up from his airplane nonchalantly but she could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Yes, Lame-y?”

Her rage roared like a wildfire. “Your desk is an absolute _cesspool_ and it’s affecting my ability to do my job. You might think I’m annoying, but I _refuse_ to let you be the reason I don’t make captain one day. Grow up!” 

She grabbed her purse and stormed off without waiting for his response, taking the stairs to the parking garage so she wouldn’t have to wait for the elevator as her shouts reverberated around the bullpen. 

It was only when she reached the safety and security of her car that she thought about the ramifications of what she’d just done - she had yelled pretty brutally at Jake, and she was sure Terry, her _boss_ , had heard. Jake was annoying but he didn’t deserve the brunt of her frustration. Not today, at least. She banged her head against the steering wheel three times before driving home to wallow in Jeopardy! and a bottle of wine. 

The next day, she walked into work with every intention of apologizing to her idiotic deskmate when an unbelievable sight stopped her in her tracks. 

Jake’s desk was completely spotless. His paperwork was in a single neat pile and his case files had been organized in three stacks according to their status: open, closed and cold; he’d clearly looked at the chart Amy had taped to the side of her desk for inspiration. She could smell her favorite lemon multipurpose cleaner in the air. What’s more, there was a fancy macchiato and a cherry Danish waiting for her on her desk – her splurge order from the expensive hipster coffee shop around the corner. She couldn’t believe he even knew about that. 

Jake turned in his chair when he heard her sensible heeled boots enter the bullpen, and his smirk was far less irritating than usual – it was almost _charming_. She couldn’t tell if she was more caught off-guard by that, or the fact that he had gotten to work before her. 

“Morning, Amy,” he smiled, using her first name correctly for the first time. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday, and a bunch of days before that. I’ve been a jerk to you and you don’t deserve that.” He actually looked sincere, and Amy would have been entirely convinced this was a dream if she had been holding a label maker. 

“Thank you, Peralta,” she said, genuinely touched. “I’m _really_ sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I was having a bad day and I took it out on you, and that was wrong.” 

He grinned and nodded. “Apology accepted, Lame-y.” 

She groaned and rolled her eyes, but the smile never disappeared from her face. “And he’s back.” 

She set her bag down and turned on her computer to start her day. While it booted up, she took a bite of her Danish and snuck a covert look at Jake out of the corner of her eye. 

He had his head down, already working diligently on a case. He felt her gaze on him and looked up, smiling timidly. She grinned back for a moment before looking back to her computer to check her emails. She couldn’t help but feel like they’d overcome an invisible hurdle. 

Maybe they could be friends, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When we first meet Jake and Amy in the pilot, they're so competitive but you can tell they respect each other. I'm pretty sure it wasn't always that way, so that's where this came from!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!


	17. take me to your river

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Dozerman’s funeral, Jake stays over at Amy’s apartment for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "River" by Leon Bridges.

The night of Dozerman’s funeral, Jake stays over at Amy’s apartment for the first time. 

For the past six days, they’ve been going home together to his cramped, cluttered loft, partially because it’s a short walk to the precinct, but mostly because Jake can be _very_ persuasive when Amy is starving and exhausted at the end of a long shift. But now that he’s made himself comfortable in her spotless and spacious third-floor walk-up, he has _no_ idea why they haven’t been coming here for the past week instead. 

He’s sitting on her couch and flipping through the channels trying to find something both of them will find acceptable to watch (she’s already vetoed Die Hard – he will _never_ understand the laws of attraction) when Amy walks out of her bedroom. Her hair has escaped from the confines of her flawless work bun, flowing down past her shoulders, and she’s wearing sweatpants and an old NYPD t-shirt so faded and ratty it’s probably from her academy days. 

One glance at her and Jake’s a goner, stupidly affected by the sight of her sleepily traipsing through her doily-covered living room in her pajamas. She has no right to look so beautiful in a shirt that’s nearly a decade old.

It hits him then and there that this is _real_ , she’s his actual _girlfriend_ , and he gets to see her at her most relaxed all the time now. He can see her in her pajamas and hang out in her living room, all without having to worry about his well-guarded emotions trickling out into the open. If you had told the Jake Peralta of five years ago that this would be his future, he would have laughed out loud and immediately gone back to chasing Charles around the bullpen in his desk chair. 

She settles herself down on the couch next to him and he swiftly slings his arm around her shoulders, just because he _can_. She smiles knowingly at the move and he shakes his head, silently telling himself to knock it off; if he’s already feeling this sappy six days in, he’s so doomed. 

They settle into a comfortable silence as they watch an episode of Property Brothers and it’s all so _domestic_. It’s hard for him to believe they were on the verge of a break-up earlier that day. His body tenses unconsciously. 

She furrows her brow at his sudden shift and looks up at him, concerned. “Jake, what’s up?”

He nearly jumps out of his own skin. “Nothing, why would anything be up?” He laughs manically. “It’s _all_ good, girl.” 

Amy ignores his futile attempts at normalcy and levels him with a look that makes it clear she’s thoroughly unconvinced by his bad acting. 

He sighs heavily and swallows his pride. “Okay, fine. I was thinking about how we almost had to break up today and how sad that would have made me.” 

Her face softens immediately and she shifts closer to him, grasping his free hand with both of hers. 

“Jake, I’m _really_ sorry if I made you doubt my feelings today,“ she says, guilt evident in her expression. He squeezes her hand tighter in reassurance. “I just didn’t want you to jeopardize your career for us when it’s still so early. You’re too good of a cop and it means too much to you.” She smiles softly. “For what it’s worth, I can’t wait to see where this six-day relationship goes.” 

He beams at her and pulls her closer, feeling an unnamed heaviness lift from his shoulders. 

“Really? Even though I spilled marinara sauce on your fancy silk throw pillow earlier?”

She giggles brightly. He can’t believe _Amy Santiago_ is _giggling_ at him. “Yes, weirdo. Somehow, I’m not sick of you yet.” 

His grin grows ever wider, threatening to overtake his entire face. “Samesies.” 

They sit beaming at each other for a beat until she breaks the spell. “Come on, I’ll show you how to get the sauce out of my throw pillow. I bought this new stain remover last week that I’ve been _dying_ to try out.” 

She jumps up off the couch, pulling him with her. 

“Nope, I take it all back. You’re the worst and I’m never coming back to your apartment again,” he groans as he begrudgingly gets up. 

He follows her into the laundry room anyway. Six days is more than enough time for Jake to know that he’s officially past the point of no return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and fluffy! Hope you liked it :)


	18. no gifts to give, they're all right here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake spends his first Christmas with the Santiagos and has an enlightening conversation with his girlfriend's terrifying mother.
> 
> _Set immediately after 'Captain Latvia'._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'Christmas in the Room' by Sufjan Stevens.

He hovered hesitantly in the doorway to the kitchen, one foot in and one foot out. 

He figured he had two choices: walk in and have a witness-free conversation with his girlfriend’s terrifying mother for the first time, or run out of the house and walk all the way back to Brooklyn from New Jersey in the middle of December, missing the Santiago family Christmas celebrations altogether. 

Jake swallowed the lump in his throat and bravely walked into the kitchen. 

Camila heard his sneakers squeaking on her spotless hardwood floor and turned. Her face split into an expression of genuine surprise when she saw him, so achingly similar to Amy’s it briefly caught him off-guard.

“Jake, are you finished unpacking already?”

“Uh, no. Amy insisted on doing it for me.” 

He and Amy had only been in her parents’ house for twenty minutes before she marched up to her childhood bedroom to start her thorough unpacking process before the rest of her siblings arrived with their kids and chaos reigned. She’d practically ripped his well-worn leather duffel bag from his hands with excitement when they walked over the threshold so she could unpack for him. He hadn’t even had enough time to inspect her giant collection of spelling bee trophies and the framed photo of young Al Gore on her nightstand before she was shooing him out of the room. She was pretty adorable when she was being an organizational dictator. 

“That sounds like my Amy,” Camila laughed. 

She was being so kind, but Jake knew better. Amy had warned him that her mother would likely be watching his every move this weekend; he could only imagine what Victor must have told her about his time with Jake on Thanksgiving. Even though Victor agreed it was Amy’s decision to date whoever she wanted, the Santiagos lived and died by their binders and Jake needed to keep his wits about him. 

He watched Camila peel potatoes for a moment before he spoke. “Can I help you with anything, Mrs. Santiago?” 

Camila’s hands stopped peeling and she silently appraised Jake before nodding slightly. “Do you know how to shuck corn?” 

He _definitely_ did not, but a quick search on Yahoo! Answers while Camila had her back turned to him cleared everything up and he was shucking like a pro in no time. 

The Santiago family kitchen was as warm and homey as you might expect from a kitchen equipped to feed so many. Jake could easily picture all eight kids tucked into every nook and cranny for family dinners each night. But as comfortable as the kitchen looked, Jake felt a coolness radiating from the woman working next to him. The silence was awkward and deafening before Camila cleared her throat and finally addressed him. 

“My husband doesn’t understand what our daughter sees in you.” It was a statement, not a question, and Jake had no idea what to make of it. 

He knew Amy didn’t care what her parents thought, but he did. He was pretty sure she was the love of his life, and he wanted her family to be on board with him too. 

“I’ve seen the binder he has for you,” Camila said, eyes sharply fixed on her potatoes. Each one in her sizeable pile was peeled with precision, no skin in sight. “It’s very thorough.”

He sighed and stopped shucking. “I know the binder doesn’t look great, Mrs. Santiago, but I love your daughter _very_ much. I just want to make her happy.” 

“I know.” 

Startled, Jake looked up from his corn to find Camila regarding him more kindly than before. “You do?” 

“I can tell from the way my daughter talks about you that you’re good for her, Jake,” she said. “She was always a serious child – she used her head but not her heart. Many of my daughter’s boyfriends have passed my husband’s binder test, but none of them made her smile the way you seem to.”

She shot him the ghost of a grin and went right back to cooking, like she hadn’t just disrupted Jake’s entire understanding of the universe and dropped an atomic bomb on his head. 

Jake followed her lead and continued shucking corn in what was now a much more comfortable silence. Jake had only just met Camila, but even he knew that he had just been given a glowing review – by Santiago standards at least. 

Amy entered the kitchen a few minutes later and Jake watched with amusement as her expression morphed from one of surprise to confusion at the sight of her boyfriend being put to work in her mother’s kitchen, or in _any_ kitchen for that matter. 

“Here you are, I was looking for you,” she said bemusedly, kissing him on the cheek when she got close enough. “What are you doing?”

Before Jake could speak, Camila answered for him. “He’s helping me with dinner, mija. Now shoo, you know you’re not allowed within ten feet of the stove.” 

Amy looked affronted as her mother turned back to the stove to put the finishing touches on her black bean soup. Jake, trying his hardest not to laugh, very lovingly stuck his tongue out at his girlfriend, who responded by gently flicking him on the shoulder. 

She was almost out of the room when Camila asked, “Jake, would you like the first taste of the soup?” 

Amy turned on her heel and stared at Jake, eyes as wide as saucers. She mouthed ‘oh my god’ behind her mother’s back and Jake knew that meant he had been given the official Santiago seal of approval. 

Maybe getting her family on board with him wouldn’t be as difficult as he once thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Camila is a big Jake fan and no one can take that headcanon away from me.


	19. you'll always be my only guiding light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from anonymous: Amy picking up Jake at the airport based on the line in she said in DFW 5x17 ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ "I love watching a "TBD" turn into a gate num."
> 
> _Or, Amy picks Jake up from the airport on Christmas Eve._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Guiding Light" by Mumford and Sons.

Amy stood in the middle of the chaos that is a New York City airport on Christmas Eve and sighed dreamily. For most, standing among a sea of suitcases and germ-filled travelers for an extended period of time on a busy holiday would be the nightmare to end all nightmares. But for Amy, the airport was an organizational dream come true. 

The strategy required to ensure that each piece of luggage – out of thousands – was reunited with its rightful owner was _astounding_ , and so was the down-to-the-minute schedule for take-offs and landings, so elegantly displayed on screens thoughtfully placed throughout the terminal. Sure, planes didn’t always arrive on time and problems arose, but that was true of any organizational challenge. It’s what made the airport one of her favorite puzzles to try and crack. 

She watched on the screen as the last flight from Dallas to NYC flipped from TBD to a gate number and smiled to herself: Jake was _finally_ home. 

He had been in Dallas for the past week visiting his half-sister and helping her move into a new apartment, and he had been so excited to finally do something brotherly for her. Watching him with his expanding family made Amy’s heart glow with warmth and affection for the man she loved, even if that family was one glass-themed scheme away from sending her to a mental hospital. 

It wasn’t until she had been shoved by a very angry ten-year-old with a shockingly runny nose that Amy decided to abandon the arrival and departure screens and take a seat on a nearby bench to wait for her husband. 

As she sat, she felt her body begin to stir with restlessness knowing that Jake was somewhere in the building. This was the longest they had been apart since he had gone to stay with Kevin in the safe house for two months, and it was harder than she would ever admit out loud to him. After all, it had _only_ been a week. She just hated losing any more time with him after so many forced separations, especially now that they were so happily married. 

She was busying herself with a loose thread on her sweater and trying to keep her mind off of the passing time when she saw a pair of sneakers approach her out of the corner of her eye. Jake’s plane had only _just_ landed, so she couldn’t believe it would be him, and the shoes were coming too close for her comfort. Warning sirens began to sound in Amy’s brain, sharpened by her many years of self-defense training. 

Before she could reach for the pepper spray tucked into the front pocket of her purse, a voice from above said, “Stop reaching for the pepper spray, Ames. It’s just me.” 

She looked up, dumbfounded, to see her husband smirking down at her. She immediately jumped up and threw her arms around him, burying her head in the crook of his neck and finally breathing him in after a long week apart. He smelled like leather and refined sugar, and it was like coming up for air. 

She felt the vibrations of his chuckle run through her body. “Did you miss me or something?”

She squeezed him tighter. “No, my boyfriend kept me company.”

He gasped in mock shock. “I knew it!”

She laughed brightly and pulled back to look him in the eye, still keeping her arms wrapped snugly around him. “I only married you for your body. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

The corners of his mouth began to pull into a soft grin. “That’s more than okay.” He bent down to kiss her, which she gladly reciprocated. She didn’t even care that the airport was loud and crowded, or that she didn’t get to greet him romantic comedy style since he’d snuck up on her. All she could focus on was the feel of his lips moving gently against hers. 

They pulled apart and Amy beamed with satisfaction when she saw that his eyes were still closed. “Did you miss me or something, Peralta?” 

He opened his eyes and they were glinting with mischief. “How could I miss someone who can’t even recognize her own husband by his shoes?”

Amy took genuine offense to that. “Jake, you have so many sneakers!”

And although he had told her why he needed each and every pair in the past, and it never helped her to understand his obsession, he proceeded to list his reasons all the way out of the airport. Amy listened to him rant passionately about footwear as they wheeled his suitcase along to the parking garage, smiling widely the whole time. 

It was good to have him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure what this is but I hope you liked it!


	20. we'll take a cup of kindness yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy accidentally spend their first New Year's Eve together. 
> 
> _Set about a year before the pilot._
> 
> For @littlemisspraetor on tumblr. Happy secret santa!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'Auld Lang Syne.'

Amy Santiago hated New Year’s Eve nearly as much as she hated Halloween.

Every bar in the city was overcrowded and overrun with tourists, drinks were astronomically expensive and she almost always ended up as designated driver when her friends had too much to drink. But she’d had big plans for this year: she and Kylie were going to have a crazy girls’ night in, complete with a Jeopardy! drinking game, a Sudoku competition and a screening of An Inconvenient Truth. It was going to be _so_ dope.

Her plans had not, however, included a surprise visit to the emergency room.

She and Peralta had spent the last few weeks staking out a gang in their precinct, gathering intel and learning their movements and patterns. Captain McGintley had decided earlier in the evening that they finally had enough evidence to make arrests, but a miscommunication left them without enough backup and the takedown was tough. They managed to bust the operation and arrest the top-level leaders, but in the chaos, Amy had been knocked out cold by an incensed perp attempting to escape from his handcuffs.

NYPD protocol mandated that she go to the hospital to get checked out, and Amy wasn’t one to argue with protocol, as much as she wanted to on this particular night.

Sarge rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital after arriving on the scene, despite her many protests that she was _just_ fine, while Peralta stayed behind to finish processing the perps. When they finally reached Brooklyn Methodist (add traffic to the list of everything Amy hated about this holiday), the waiting room was packed with people, from drunken partiers to coughing children. Not even a police badge and Terry’s enormous muscles could get Amy home to her warm bed before midnight.

As they waited, Amy in a wheelchair the EMTs insisted she sit in due to the blow her head had absorbed, she noticed that Terry kept obsessively checking his phone.

“Sarge, what’s wrong?” she asked.

He sighed and paused before answering. “It’s Sharon. She’s asking when I’ll be home, but I told her I was needed here,” he said, radiating kindness.

Amy was touched, but his words only made her feel guilty for keeping him from his family. Sharon was pregnant and needed her husband far more than Amy did. “Terry, I’m fine. I’m not dying, I’m only here to get checked out. Go home and be with your wife.”

He looked torn. “Are you sure? No one should be alone in a hospital.”

Amy smiled, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace as she steadfastly ignored her pounding headache and sore ribs. “Yes, I’m sure. Go before I change my mind.”

He smiled and gently squeezed her shoulder, reminding her of her most protective brother, Miguel. “Okay, I’ll go. Feel better, Santiago. Call me if you need anything.”

She nodded. “Will do, Sarge. And thank you.”

He left, and Amy’s head began pounding again in earnest. Luckily, a nurse appeared a few minutes later to wheel her into a room with a bed so she could wait for a doctor in comfort. She was one step closer to going home and forgetting this night ever happened.

She was just getting settled under the stiff white sheets when the high-pitched squeak of sneakers in the hallway signaled the arrival of her obnoxious toddler of a partner. He slid into the doorway, panting heavily.

“Peralta, what are you doing here?” she asked, surprised to see him. She’d assumed the crime scene would have taken a lot longer to process, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him in her hospital room – she didn’t want to know what kind of damage he could cause in such a delicate setting.

He collapsed into the chair beside her bed and caught his breath. “Sarge called me. He said you shouldn’t be alone.”

Amy huffed and sank further into her pile of flat, lifeless hospital pillows. “I’m fine on my own, Peralta, you know that.”

He smirked. “You don’t need to tell me you’re a badass, Santiago. You took a body slam from a gangster like a champ. Not gonna lie, it turned me on a little.”

Amy’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew, Peralta. There’s nothing sexy about a head injury.”

“That’s what you think,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Amy rolled her eyes and turned on the small TV in the corner of the room, hoping the sounds of Dick Clark and Ryan Seacrest would drown him out.

They sat in silence for a while, which was truly an impressive feat for the man at her bedside. She shivered as a cold gust of air conditioning hit her. “Why are hospitals _always_ so cold? It’s freezing outside, it doesn’t need to be freezing inside too,” she ranted through chattering teeth.

Jake wordlessly shrugged off his trusty leather jacket and handed it to her, but Amy wasn’t having it. “Jake, it’s fine. The doctor should be here soon and we can both go home.”

He shook his head, amused. “Just take the jacket, Santiago.” She did and she hated the instant relief it provided. It smelled just like him, which was strangely comforting.

The minutes passed and Amy sighed. “Sorry you’re stuck here with me. I’m sure you had big plans tonight.”

“Nah,” Jake smiled. “Not unless you consider Die Hard and a couple of 40’s to be big plans.”

Amy laughed outright. “Peralta, that is so sad. At least I was going to be with someone.”

Jake narrowed his eyes at her. “Kylie doesn’t count, Santiago.”

Amy stared him down before conceding and accepting defeat. “Fine, we’re both losers,” she said, turning her attention back to the television where the ball was about to drop.

Jake nodded, his gaze lingering on her. “Yep, both losers.”

The crowd in Times Square began to count down, Jake excitedly joining in and forcing Amy to as well. They high-fived as the clock struck midnight and 2013 began.

“Happy New Year, Santiago,” Jake said, beaming.

She smiled back. “Happy New Year, Peralta.”

The new year was already full of promise – it was one of her better New Year’s Eves, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost New Year, everyone!


	21. you're already home where you feel love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake convinces Amy to watch all five Die Hard movies with him, and Amy gets more than she bargained for.
> 
> _Set somewhere between "The Funeral" and "The Mattress."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Lost in My Mind" by The Head and the Heart.

A full bowl of popcorn sits in the center of her doily-covered coffee table, right next to a giant bag of gummy bears and a tall liter of orange soda. As Amy surveys the diabetic chaos that has taken over her living room, she sighs to herself. 

She can’t believe she agreed to this. 

She’d tried to put it off for as long as she could but Jake was nothing if not persistent, especially now that he had new, not-so-work-appropriate ways to distract her into agreeing to whatever he wanted. Like watching every single Die Hard movie together for the first time. 

‘Compromise is the hallmark of a healthy relationship,’ her mother had always said when Amy was young. Her parents have the strongest relationship of anyone she knows, so she figures if she wants things to work out with Jake – and she really, _really_ does – she supposes she can watch his favorite franchise with him, just for a night. 

Then again, her mom ended up with eight kids, so maybe compromise is overrated. 

Jake bounds over from the kitchen, carrying a pizza box (she nixed his choice of display temperature meat supreme, her one bit of control over the night) and looking happier than she’s ever seen him. 

He glances up at her as he situates the food. “Why do you look like you lost a bet?” he laughs. 

She flops on the couch and crosses her arms indignantly. “I _wish_ I’d lost a bet. I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” 

“Oh, Amy,” he says as he shakes his head, grabbing the remote and sitting himself next to her on the couch. “Die Hard isn't a punishment, it’s a _privilege_. Just watch, you’re gonna fall in love.” He triumphantly presses play on the movie and digs into the pizza. 

She’s seen the first one plenty of times before, so the movie commences with a lot of eating and the playful banter they excel at. In a lot of ways, they’re back to being Peralta and Santiago, two partners arguing about the best cop movies of all time. There’s just a little less couch between them now and she doesn’t blush with embarrassment when their fingers brush in the popcorn bowl. She spends most of the movie watching Jake as he mouths the lines under his breath and pumps his fist every time John McClane does something heroic. His eyes are awed and glued to the screen as if he’s watching it for the first time, and she doesn’t think she’s seen anyone more magnetic. 

The second movie is a little hazier, as she’s a couple beers in by this point, which makes the whole thing a lot more enjoyable. She even lets loose and eats a handful of gummy bears halfway through, shocking and delighting her boyfriend. 

By the third movie, she’s _definitely_ a little drunk and laughing loudly and easily at all the wrong parts. Jake doesn’t seem to mind, though, especially since she’s moved much closer to him on the couch and her head is resting comfortably on his shoulder. Every once in a while, he glances down at her when he thinks she isn’t looking and she sees his lips quirk into a soft smile. He only ever smiles like that around her, she’s noticed. 

At some point during the fourth movie, Jake moves to wrap his arm securely around her waist, drawing absentminded patterns into her skin with his fingers as he watches the screen. It’s like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, he just wants to be closer to her, and Amy thinks her heart might actually explode. Being touched by Jake is still so new and exciting, but it also feels strangely familiar. She’s not sure why they didn’t start touching like this a long time ago. 

She doesn’t make it through the fifth movie. She falls asleep in the middle of the first act, her head snugly tucked into the crook of his neck. Jake gently wakes her as the credits roll, knowing how much she hates going to bed without taking off her makeup and brushing her teeth. 

“Ames,” he whispers. “Wake up, it’s time for bed.” 

She groans. “That doesn’t even make sense.” 

He snorts. “Even when you’re half-asleep you find ways to argue with me. Unbelievable.” 

She smiles as she opens her eyes and sees his, emanating warmth and making her feel tingly all the way down to her toes. 

“So, what’d you think?” he asks. “Are you ready to admit that Die Hard is the best cop movie of all time, once and for all?” 

She pauses, pretends to think. “Nope, still Training Day.” 

He rolls his eyes affectionately and shakes his head. “So rude, after I set up this whole marathon and bought all these snacks for you.” 

They make their way to her bedroom, Jake continuing to tease her as they go about their nighttime routine. Her last thought before she drifts to sleep is that she’s pretty sure Jake was right: she’s gonna fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe this is my last hiatus one-shot! I'm sad to leave this fic collection behind but I am SO PUMPED our show is coming back this week! Thank you for all the support on this. It made this long hiatus a little less hellish :)

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me on tumblr [@santiagoswagger](https://santiagoswagger.tumblr.com/)!


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